The Games People Play
by Yma
Summary: When Vash’s antics get them kicked off a sandsteamer, he and Wolfwood are forced to stop off at the ruined city of July, where old memories and faces force Vash to consider the price of his fake smiles. Set in two timeframes.rnComplete.
1. Default Chapter

The Games People Play…

By Yma

Disclaimer: This world and its characters do not belong to me, they belong to all the wonderful people who created Trigun, and the man who draw the Manga of course. I am just having some fun with this. Don't take it too seriously and don't sue. My thanks to them for creating such a fun and interesting world and characters. This disclaimer not only applies to this chapter, but to all those following it within this story.

Prologue

He'd lost something…

What… what had he lost he…

Something… her… yes, he'd lost her.

Who was she again?

He couldn't remember. But… she was there, waiting for him, in that place amongst the blue sky where red petals floated on the soft breeze. It was good there, not like here.

He didn't like it here, not one bit.

Here the sky was red and there were dark piles of rubble and dust, dust so thick he could hardly breathe. And he was cold, so cold he couldn't stop shivering. But hot too, it didn't make any sense.

Why was he here? Had he been bad?

Having said that, he'd only been here a few moments, and he was lying on his back, so maybe things would improve later.

He wished he could remember her name.

He wished he could remember his own name.

He strained his mind, trying to catch a glimpse of the past, a past he felt he really should know but… but…

Yes… there'd been grass, too. Grass and red flowers.

Red… determination, courage.

Yes. He recalled that now.

He should sit up, should get moving. Perhaps he'd find out what was going on, perhaps She would be there to guide him after all. She must be round here (wherever here was,) somewhere, mustn't She? She wouldn't leave him, surely, not so long as he was good, not so long as he didn't make Her sad. And promised he would never leave Her, yes… he knew…

_ 'I promise, because I love you Rem!'_

Rem.

Yes… Rem… that was the name. Her name. Rem. Rem.

He opened his mouth, tried to call out to her.

'Rmmmm…'

He couldn't get the words out, his throat and lips were parched, his tongue full of dust. Damn.

And there was still something wrong, something missing. What? What?

Well, She would know. Rem would know. He just had to find Her and he wouldn't find Her lying on his back like this!

So he tried to sit up.

Then he understood what else that was missing.

He was supposed to have two arms, right? Yes… but one was gone. One was deferentially gone.

He was wearing a red coat which flowed around him like… like… geranium petals. It was tattered and torn though and the right sleeve was gone, ripped away. Poor coat.

His right arm was there, though, which was good. And he was holding something…

He looked and saw that he was holding a gun, a bright, silver gun. His fingers on his existing arm were stiff from holding it so long and so tightly.

He was glad he had it and glad he had his right arm too. He liked his right arm because… because… he was right handed. Yes. So losing his left wasn't so bad.

He knew he'd lost his left arm because it wasn't there, you see. There was just a tattered stump of flesh which leaked red. A red stump leaking more red, courage and determination dripping into the dust, like geranium petals.

Blood a small, calm voice inside of him said, blood, you're bleeding badly. You're shivering because of blood loss, you need to bandage your stump off soon, before the shock wares out and you feel the pain.

Slowly he tore strips from the tattered leather of his coat and wound them around the wound, hoping to stop the red blood leaking out. It was hard to do with only one hand and even harder because the congealing gore made his grip slippy.

He was thinking clearer now, he had a notion that soon there would be a lot of pain, that there was already a lot of pain but he just hadn't got round to feeling it yet.

He staggered to his feet and promptly fell down again, having over balanced. Without the weight of his left arm he wasn't sure how to stand properly. He tried again, this time over balancing the other way as he compensated too much.

Third time lucky?

He managed it, using a shattered wall for support he found his feet and looked around. Things were even worse than he'd thought. There really was nothing but dust, sand, ruined buildings and a swirling, red sky.

What could have done this?

Well, there would be time to wonder later, now… now he needed to find his arm.

The little, calm voice in his head said it would be no good, the limb was gone forever now, so much rotting carrion. But he wanted to find it anyway, it was his and kind of handy.

He giggled to the empty air at his own joke. Handy! Funny. He'd made a joke! He must tell Rem that joke, when he found Her.

Shock was wearing out now, pain had entered the equation. He was starting to become hysterical.

He stumbled and lurched around the wreckage of the house. There was no sound except for his stumbling footsteps, occasionally he would cry out as a dull twinge of pain grabbed him, or a sob would escape his lips, sometimes, between cries and sobs, he would cough as the dust and sand entered his parched throat and mouth.

There was no one about except for… a body. Yes, the body of a man with dark hair surrounded by yet more blood. Who was he?

He didn't seem familiar, not really.

Why was there so much blood here? So much pain and destruction? Was this hell?

He tried to think, to decipher the mess that was his mind, but it was useless.

Oh… there was the pain.

He gasped, slipped, fell to the ground once more. Darkness was rushing towards him, an abyss of agony and oblivion. Well, that wasn't so bad. He was falling now, falling, falling as around him She sang.

So… on the first night the pebble falls to the earth…

He fell with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: This chapter is set between the episodes 'Good Bye For Now,' and 'Hang Fire.'

I'll switch the setting between each chapter, so the next chapter will be set just after July and the chapter after that will be set back with the boys now. Get it? Cool. If you like this please leave a review! Oh, and in case the ending leaves you a bit confused… this ISN'T AU.

Chapter 1

'So,' said Wolfwood, speaking very slowly and very clearly, 'what you're saying… is that you've lost all our money playing cards?'

Vash the Stampede and Nicholas D Wolfwood were currently on a Sand Steamer bound for the New Jersey area, not where Wolfwood wanted to be precisely, but near enough the general area he wanted that it didn't matter. So far things had been fairly quiet, this, however, was a new development. He could feel the beginnings of a headache start behind his eyes.

Vash blushed, 'well, not all of it! Um… I spent some of it on the doughnut stand before hand.'

'Yes, but apart from that it's all gone, right?'

'Uh huh,' sighed Vash, taking note of strange, very calm expression on Wolfwood's face, 'you did say, once, that a real man would put all his money on the table!'

'I didn't mean-' began the priest, then paused, taking a second to calm down again. He had to be calm, he had to be very, very calm.

'What I mean,' he began again, 'is… why the hell did you play poker anyway? What possessed you?'

It was a good question, for all his other faults Vash was actually rather good with money. He wasn't a skin flint by any means (and certainly not when things like Doughnuts came into the equation,) but he didn't seem the type to flitter his money away.

Vash just grinned.

Wolfwood blinked, what the-?

The dorky gunslinger made a small gesture with his thumb, pointing behind him to where a small game of cards was taking place.

One of the players was a woman with a rather beautiful appearance. Slender, delicate, with long brown hair, large eyes, and a lot of make up. Her… chest… was large and covered up only to the minimal of decency. She had a rather large pile of poker chips besides her.

Wolfwood turned his eyes back to Vash, who was now blushing bright crimson, 'her name's Mary Sue! Isn't she a cutie!'

Wolfwood's head began to ache, a gentle, throbbing pain.

'You lost my money to her!' he said, unable to keep his voice even any longer, 'but you're… you're… you're an expert at hiding your feelings! You have all those fake smiles! You're not even drunk! You should be great at poker, how the hell did you lose to her!'

Vash shrugged and rubbed the back of his head with his hand, 'sorry,' he muttered, 'I really don't know, I'm not usually so bad at card games…'

Wolfwood bit down on his own lip, determined not to loose his temper. The Sand steamer's captain had warned that, in these troubled times, so he wanted no trouble on his ship and that the first passengers to start said trouble would be thrown off.

The problem was that Vash and trouble were… well… he honestly doubted you could have one without the other.

Wolfwood's eyes turned back to the gaming table, he'd give Vash one thing, he did have a good taste in women. The girl at the table really was pretty, though the makeup probably helped matters. As he watched she reached into a small, silken purse and withdrew a makeup kit. She opened up the little box and began to touch her eye-liner up whilst the other players took their move. Wolfwood noticed how she angled the little mirror in the box just so that…

'Vash,' he said, 'that woman's cheating, she's using her mirror to look at the other player's cards.'

'Oooh, really?' gasped his broom headed companion, 'I _thought_ she was doing that!'

The headache was certainly there now, and painful. Wolfwood rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, the light suddenly becoming a little too bright for him.

'You… you knew she was cheating?'

'Well, I wasn't completely sure and I didn't want to take her up on it, it might have made her cry! Besides, she said she was going to use her winnings to visit her critically sick little brother, how could I-'

'THAT WAS MY MONEY YOU BROOM HEADED IDIOT!'

Vash winced and patted the air in a 'calm down' motion, 'aw come on, Nicholas, it's not that bad, and it went to a good cause! Think of her little, critically ill brother!'

'Oh, oh,' Wolfwood was grinning now, grinning manically, 'you're the one who's gonna be critically ill soon! I'm gonna make sure of that!'

'Um… Wolfwood, that vein on the side of your head is throbbing a lot.'

Wolfwood gripped the sides of his chair desperately, he must not kill Vash. Knives would kill _him_ if he did. He mustn't kill Vash. He mustn't kill Vash… damn, it felt like his brain was going to explode!

'Ok, Ok,' he said, trying to breath, 'Ok, this isn't a problem, we'll deal with it later, right?'

'Right!'

'Right,' the Priest let out a long, indrawn breath, trying to relax, he desperately needed a cigarette, but first something to cool him down.

'Pass me the water,' he grunted, 'I need a drink.'

'Uh… I would but…'

'Vash…'

'Well, she said she was thirsty!'

The litany began anew in Wolfwood head. I must not kill Vash. I must not kill Vash. I must not kill- aw, screw it!

'AIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!'

Twenty minutes later.

'You'll pay for this in the afterlife! St Peter will never let you trough the pearly gates! You'll face retribution for kicking off a preacher, you hear me! Don't invite the wrath of Our Lord!'

'Um… Wolfwood, I don't think they can hear you…'

Wolfwood spun round to face his companion, now sitting in the sand, nursing a busied jaw, 'shut up,' he hissed, 'and besides, that's not the point.'

The two men were alone in the vast, trackless desert which made up much of Gunsmoke. The Sand Steamer, which Wolfwood had been shouting and waving his fist at, was now a mere speck upon the horizon. The only other items with them were their sparse baggage and Wolfwood's bike, now lying on its side in the dust.

Behind him Vash snorted, 'there's no need to be so snappy, it was you who started the brawl anyhow, the captain didn't have much choice but to toss us off.'

'Me? Me? It was you who started it, you hit me!'

Vash leaped up from the sand, matching eyes with the priest 'you hit me first!' he protested.

'Well I was mad! You spent all my money!'

'That wasn't my fault, the lady cheated!'

'You let her cheat you sentimental, broom headed idiot!'

For a moment the two men stood there, glaring at each other, Vash was the first to look away.

'Anyway,' he sighed, 'arguing won't get us anywhere.'

'Yeah well,' grunted Wolfwood, 'unless you haven't noticed we're stuck in the desert with little food and no water. How the hell are we gonna to get to New Jersey now?'

'We have your bike.'

'But hardly any fuel for it.'

For the first time since their fight, Vash looked sincerely worried; Wolfwood sighed and moved towards his Angelina II. He pushed it up out of the sand, and began to saddle it, 'don't worry, Needle Noggin, we've got enough fuel to get us to the nearest settlement. I thought something might happen so I checked the map. There's somewhere we can stop off just a few iles away, Angelina will last us that far.'

'Good,' said Vash, moving to sit behind Wolfwood on the saddle, 'where is it?'

Wolfwood didn't reply, he just kicked the bike into gear and, with a flurry of dust, they set off.

'Um… Wolfwood?' repeated Vash, putting his arms round his waist so as not to fall off, 'where are we going? Where is this settlement?'

Nothing.

'Wolfwood?'

The Priests reply game out more as a sigh than anything, 'July.'

He was pretty sure that he didn't just imagine Vash's arms tighten their grip around his waist.

The city of July was destroyed twenty eight years ago, but its story was not yet completely over.

Humans, for all their other faults, are survivors to the bitter end and not everyone could flee July. So it was that, from amidst the rubble and ashes, life sprung anew.

Well, something like that anyway.

Really, this was just a verbose way of saying that not all the refugees of July left, some tried to stick it out and made crude, temporary homes. After many years these homes became less temporary and more… stable. A tiny shanty town developed where once a great city thrived. It comprised mostly of people too poor or too desperate to make a living anywhere else. It's only export was rescued refuse, bits of broken technology, abandoned valuables and a few tiny cottage industries. With no Plant to sustain it, the settlement depended almost entirely on imports from other places, imports it could only just afford.

The upshot of this was that, whilst the settlement of July did exist, that was all it did. It was a place of empty, broken buildings and lost hopes. No one stayed any longer than they had to, it's only value was as a half way point between various other, more important places. Sooner or later everyone would either die or leave and only the ghosts of forgotten dreams would be left to haunt the ruins.

Angelina II ran out of fuel just outside the settlement and the gunslinger and the priest were forced to drag it the rest of the way until. Vash hadn't said a word since Wolfwood had given him the name of the settlement. As they approached the outskirts of the ruins, where they hid and left the motor bike, he reached into his shirt and pulled out his glasses.

Wolfwood frowned as he slipped the yellow spectacles over his nose, adjusting them so they hid his blue-green eyes. He always did that when he was bothered about something, when he was about to fight, when he didn't want people to see his emotions. It figured, the eyes were the window to the soul, after all and you didn't want to expose that during a conflict.

He remembered the words of Chapel, his mentor, explaining the importance of the eye, how one could read emotions from it, intentions, even the trajectory of a bullet.

He considered donning his own sun glasses, but decided against it. Two mysterious men wearing shades might seem a little odd, draw too much attention, which was the last thing he wanted. He was only glad that Vash didn't have his trench coat with him, what a stir that would have caused! The man in the red coat, the destroyer of July, returning at last. Coming back to the place where Vash the Stampede was born.

The thought made Wolfwood wince. Damn, this place must hold some painful memories for the goofy gunslinger.

So what? whispered a small, spiteful voice in his head, it's not as if he doesn't deserve that pain, if nothing else. He can't even comprehend the amount of pain he caused here, twenty eight years ago.

Wolfwood shook the thought away, Vash was probably very much aware of what he'd done… Besides, with all the crap he went though on a daily basis, Wolfwood was tempted to think he'd already paid for the suffering he'd caused. Not that he wouldn't suffer even more before all was said and done, Legato would ensure that.

These thoughts brought a surge of compassion into Nicholas's soul, 'hey, Vash,' he called to his bespectacled companion, 'you alright?'

'Yeah,' replied Vash, turning to give Wolfwood one of his large selection of fake smiles, 'I'm fine but… I'd rather not stick around here, Ok? I doubt this town does the best selection of whiskies.'

Wolfwood allowed himself a small smile, 'yeah I know what you mean. But we're not going to be leaving any time soon. We need fuel for Angelina and we've no money to buy it, thanks to you.'

'You're not going to be letting that go any time soon, are ya?' whined Vash.

'Nope,' replied Wolfwood.

Vash looked like he was going to say something else but he was cut off by another voice, a voice from behind them.

'Vash…'

Wolfwood looked back to see an elderly woman with long, white hair which streamed out behind her in the desert wind. She seemed in her early fifties, but her eyes… they were older and her features were worn hard and craggy by a life full of struggle and strife. By her side was a rough, wooden cane which she leaned upon, her garments were plain and homespun, full of patches and rips but clean, the kind of cleanness that comes from almost compulsive washing.

'Vash…' she whispered again… 'Vash, is it really you?'

Vash spun round to face his addressor, his face became suddenly expressionless, cold.

'Yes,' replied the Gunslinger, his voice hard, 'long time no see… Rem.'

Reader's Replies:

LeDiz: Thanks for replying, I'm glad this has you hooked! Don't worry, there's much more to come. BTW, the dead guy was Count Verquiz, or whatever he was called. The guy Knives killed, basically. His dead body serves no function except to add mood so don't worry about it.

ATO: Glad you like it!

MidgetMinion: Oooh, new reader, coolies! Glad you like the style, it's gonna change slightly into amore... well, you've seen here... but I'm happy I got the mood right. I hope you liked this chapter too. Don't worry, we'll get back to Post July next chapter.

Lushdesolation (who's reviewed this on my LJ,) Heh, what did you think to the ending of this chapter, eh? And I'm glad to have been congratulated on my research. Not enough people go into what it must be like to loose and arm. Horrific, I'd think...

See you next time I hope!


	3. Chapter 3

NOTE: Do NOT read the Reader Replies until you have read this chapter, it will contain spoilers.

Chapter 3

She felt… numb.

How could it happen? Two days ago she'd had everything and now… now…

She wandered aimlessly around the desolate streets of the once proud city, brought to its knees… no, to its belly, by the actions of one man, Vash.

How they'd known it was him, she'd no idea. But the rumour that this chaos, this desolation had been brought about by a man in a red coat, spread through the city like wild fire. Vash, he was known as, and even if a herd of stampeding Thomas had run through the city they could hardly have caused half the chaos and damage of that one, lone man. Thus he had earned the title, Vash the Stampede. The Humanoid Typhoon, an uncontrollable force of nature, not killing, but leaving nothing but wreckage and ruin in his wake.

What's more, they said, he was still here.

She didn't dare wander far from her home, that's how… how… her mind went blank, she mustn't think of such things. For if she did she would fall apart again, fall apart like the city, like her house, break even further down. If she broke any more she was sure she'd never be mended again.

She flittered from shadow to shadow, looking for something… some abandoned shop, some scrap of food. She'd stored a little back at what was left of her home, but it was important to get more, to keep her eye out so that she could hole herself up later. July had already turned into hell. Bands of desperate men and women roamed the streets, pillaging, stealing, murdering.

It was then, amidst the detritus, she saw _him._

She didn't recognise him immediately, not until she saw the flash of red beneath the tattered cloak he wore. Then… just then, she knew what she was looking at. Like a demon out of hell, he stood there, Vash the Stampede.

She couldn't make out his features, the dust and grime hid all details. But she saw that he wasn't alone for he was holding something… some one. A girl, a little girl was pressed close to him; she seemed to be sobbing into his grimy, grey cloak.

The words of her neighbours came back to her…

_"Vash the Stampede… he'll kill anyone!"_

_"The Gunslinger in Red, he bathes in blood!"_

_"A servant of the devil…"_

_"He drinks the blood of those he kills!"_

_"Nothing can stand in his way; he's got the blessing of hell upon him!"_

Some might have claimed what she did next was brave and might have praised her for putting her life on the line for the sake of a child. She would have disagreed.

For, right then, she felt like she had little enough life to loose anyway. Indeed, death would have almost been a blessing and only the innate, desperate determination to survive which is inherent in almost all humans kept her alive.

So, really, pointing a gun at Vash the Stampede in order to save the girl wasn't much of a heroic act at all, not really.

'Get away from her!' she shrieked, causing the gunslinger to looks up and the little girl he clutched to scream, shrilly.

She couldn't make out his features, couldn't even see his eyes properly, but she knew he was looking at her, staring at her. Slowly he released his hold on the girl who, being only very young, did the first thing that came into her tiny head and ran.

She watched from the child's escape from the corner of her eye, hoping she would get away.

Vash the Stampede stayed where he was, his tattered cloak flowing about him in the dusty wind. Then, slowly, he took a step towards her.

Her hand trembled, she tried desperately to keep the monster in her sites, tried to stay calm.

'Don't!' she yelled, but The Stampede took no notice, he took a further step forward.

'Please!' she screamed, 'please, stop it! I'll shoot!'

The creature continued to advance.

'Get away from me! I'm going to shoot! I will shoot you!'

Still he advanced then a mournful sound, the moaning of the damned, came from his throat, 'rmmmmmm…'

She screamed and pressed the trigger on her gun.

_Click_.

Oh no.

She pressed it again.

_Click, click: _

She'd never used a gun before, this had been one she'd found in the street in her wanderings and in a sort of minimal, shocked daze, had picked up and kept. She should have guessed that it would be empty.

_Click, click, click, click._

She pulled the trigger desperately, as if it would magically start working. Vash the Stampede continued to advance; the blowing wind parted his tattered cloak long enough for her to see the folds of a dirty red trench coat. From beneath those dirty rags a hand, rapped in tattered bandaging, emerged. It reached out to her, stretching, grasping… the sound came once again, 'rrrmmmmmm…'

She tried to escape, desperately back peddling, unable to take her eyes of the dreadful creature. Then, in her blind fear, she tripped!

Down she fell, into the dust and debris. She screamed again, hardly thinking anyone would actually care or come to help.

The creature wailed again, taking another step towards her, 'r…r…eh….mmmmm?'

The world swam around her as tears burst from her eye lids, she was shaking in fear, her bladder felt loose, her stomach turned and all she could see was that dreadful, encroaching figure.

Its stretching figures were about to reach her, another sound emerged, a word.

'Rem?'

With this, Vash the Stampede fell to his knees and for a moment the two people were both sitting in the dust, at an equal level. Then, like a stone, he completed his decent, falling all the way to lie on the barren earth.

For a while she found herself unable to move, unable to think. Her heart, previously thudding in her chest, slowed a little and a measure of serenity returned to her.

Slowly, carefully, she crawled forward towards the figure. Beneath all the rags and dirt she honestly couldn't tell if it… if he, was alive.

Taking a deep breath she prodded him and, when he didn't respond, carefully turned the body around so it was its back.

This provoked a reaction. She gave out a squeak of terror as Vash the Stampede gasped and cloaked, coming back to consciousness. For a moment his eyes, set in dry, dirty, scraped skin, opened and she could see his irises were a strange, blue-green colour, soft and hard all at once.

'Rem?' he whimpered once more from between two, parched lips.

Then, as if this last utterance had used up all his remaining reserves, he closed his eyes once more, his breathing slowed and he was unconscious once again.

She let out one, long breath. He was alive, for now at least.

She studied him; he was hardly what she had expected. Up close he was… young. He couldn't be much older than she and though his face was covered in dirt and scratches, it was not an ugly visage. Far from it, he was quite handsome.

She found herself smiling, wanly. If this was Vash the Stampede, he wasn't so scary. When she looked closer and saw that, beneath the dirt, he had blond hair. A beautiful, rich, bright golden colour, rich and smooth, it was spiked up into a ridiculous style. But it was blond, and soft…

She didn't think much after that, she just reacted. She just grabbed hold of his bandaged hand and began to pull him along by it, dragging him back to her home.

There was pain, a lot of pain but the pain had been there for quite a long while now, so he was almost used to it.

This felt different, though, he was lying on something soft and, for the first time in a while, he was warm. Not hot, not the sweltering heat of the suns, nor the consuming inferno of fever. This was a soft, gentle heat, comforting, fuzzy.

He opened his eyes, wincing at even the soft, yellow light which hit his retina. He found himself looking up into a grubby ceiling, full of rusting metal beams and spider webs. From between the cracks of corrugated steel he was sure he could see patches of bare earth. Something told him he was underground somewhere, not far, but underground none the less.

A figure invaded his line of sight, it was a woman with long, black hair.

'V-Vash?' she asked, her smooth, melodic voice stuttering over the word.

Vash?

Vash.

Vash!

That was it! That was his name! He remembered! He was Vash and she… she… she must be…

'Rem? Is that you?' It was the most he'd managed to say yet and the words came out as a horse croak.

The woman smiled slowly, a gentle, beautiful smile which spread over her pail face like sunshine across the desert plains.

'Yes… Yes, I'm Rem. Do you know who you are?'

'No… yes… I think I'm Vash, right?'

Her smile broadened so much it reached her deep blue eyes, 'yes, you're Vash. You're my husband.'

NOTE: Right now you may be having your doubts about this story, I understand this; but please keep on reading! At least for one more chapter, it will be explained I promise, this is NOT AU and I have absolutely no intention of including any Mary Sue in this fic aside from the one at the very beginning. PLEASE have a little faith and patience, I promise that you shall be rewarded.

Reviews are, as ever, loved, cherished and considered.

Next chapter… It's back to the future as Vash and Wolfwood confront an aged "Rem."

Reader's Replies.

Ron The Future Weasel: Ah… it isn't Rem, you see… or at least it isn't quite Rem. She is an OC though, and I prey that you won't have to use that rock again. I hate Mary Sues, it would make me feel ill if I created one… Sorry about the reviewing mistake last time, please keep on reviewing!

LeDiz: Thanks! Your words mean a huge amount! Because Wolfwood Very hard to write. Vash Very, very, very hard to write. Vash Wolfwood EXTREMELY hard to write! You've gotta get just the right amount of friendliness and antagonism and all that stuff. :sigh: making them different and yet the same… it's tough. And it's part of the reason why I wrote this, to see if I could get that relationship on paper. It think I succeeded, and I'm happy you liked this chapter. It's one of my favourites of the story… again, I'm glad to have wrong footed someone with the Rem thing… hehehe…

Lady Shadowcat: Sorry if you were a bit disappointed by this chapter… but

Rem is in it! In sprit at least… but please don't abandon this, because it is about Rem in a way… don't worry… it'll all become clear soon. I'm so happy your reviewing this!

Saraki: Oooh, a new reviewer! Coolies. Well, I hope this chapter was OK, I love surprising people with this Rem thing, even if it is a bit of a red herring, though in a way it isn't… please review again, each review will motivate me to get the chapters out quicker! (NB: The story is already written, it's just a matter of getting round to posting the separate chapters.)

Well, that's all, tune in next time!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

NOTE: Back to the 'present,' again… (i.e. where we left off the chapter before last…)

'You've not changed,' said the grey haired woman, 'you're still as young as you were all those years ago.'

'You've aged,' commented Vash, his voice dreadfully calm, 'how has life treated you?'

'Well enough,' admitted the woman grudgingly, 'even without you… Vash, we need to talk.'

'Why? So you can feed me more lies?'

'I didn't lie.'

'You did nothing but lie.'

Wolfwood's eyes flickered between the speakers as he watched the dynamics of the conversation develop. He reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a cigarette. This was beyond strange. Vash was acting… cold. As cold as he'd ever seen the renegade Gunslinger, yet the woman was behaving in a very civil, if not friendly manner.

He knew far from everything about Vash's past but he had been told a little about Rem. Knives had mentioned her as the woman Vash looked up to the most, and who had brought them up for the most part. Vash himself had let slip her name a few times, often with great reverence. But, from what Wolfwood had been told, Rem was dead. Had died over a century ago, so who the hell was this? And what had pissed Vash of so much?

'That's not right,' said the old woman, her large, blue eyes hardening, she straightened herself, 'some of it was true.'

Vash shrugged, 'a truth built upon a lie is also a lie, just a prettier one.'

He turned at this, making to leave but the woman, whomever she was, wouldn't let him go so easily. 'You can't just do that, Vash! I'm part of your past, no matter how much you try to deny it!'

Although he didn't turn to face her, Wolfwood saw Vash smile, a cold, humourless twist of the lips, 'I've enough problems with my past as it is,' he said, 'I've no time for you. Move on, Rem.'

'I can't!'

'Sure you can, your ticket to the future's always open, you know. I'm just not one of the destinations.'

He started to walk away.

'Vash!' the woman screamed out behind him, her voice a mix of rage, sadness and desperation.

'Later!' was all he called back, casually waving a hand as he did so, as if this was just another parting.

The woman looked imploringly at Nicholas, who was by now half way through his cigarette.

The crooked priest shrugged, he wanted to say something but Vash, with his needle sharp hearing, would undoubtedly catch what he said, and that would only make him more resolute.

If there was one thing Vash possessed it was stubbornness, one couldn't barge though his determination to change his mind, one had to approach from the side.

Nicholas sighed, turned away and followed his blond companion, dragging deeply upon his smoke as he did so. Like everything which involved Vash the Stampede, this was complex.

He followed Vash to the local saloon. Of course the town had a saloon, every town did. On this harsh world alcohol was almost as much a necessity as water.

By this point Vash seemed to have reverted to his characteristic self. He had removed the sunglasses and walked with a confident, almost skipping stride, a plastic grin pasted all over his face.

'Oy, Needle Noggin!' yelled Wolfwood, 'where do you think you're going?'

'To get a drink!' called back Vash merrily.

'How, exactly? What money are you going to use?'

'Yours.'

'But you gambled it all away you idiot, remember?!'

'Yeah but you've still got that spare stash you keep in your back pocket.'

Wolfwood blinked, how did he know about that? It wasn't nearly enough to buy them enough fuel to get anywhere useful, but he always kept a little spare cash aside for emergencies.

'I heard the change rattle as you walked,' explained Vash, as if reading the priest's thoughts, 'come on and buy your old pal a drink!'

Wolfwood frowned then let out another, heavy sigh. Why the hell not? It wasn't as if he didn't need a drink too and besides, alcohol might be just the thing to loosen Vash's lips on the whole Rem thing.

'Fine,' grunted Wolfwood, 'but we're gonna get a room with the rest of the cash, OK?'

'Sure, sure,' laughed the gunslinger, dancing into the saloon and heading straight for the bar.

It wasn't much of a place, it had very few patrons and those that were there looked like the sort of drinkers who rarely left. The chairs and tables were mismatched, obviously rescued from the ruins and the choices of drink were few.

The barman, a scraggly guy with only one eye and thousands of wrinkles; glared at the two men as they approached.

'Hi!' greeted Vash in his usual friendly manner, 'a bottle of Wild Turkey please!'

The barman sneered but did as he was told, turning round to grab a dusty bottle of whisky from the shelves behind him and slamming it down on the bar.

'That'll be thirty Double Dollars,' he grated.

'Thirty Double Dollars!' repeated Vash incredulously, his voice high, 'but that's-'

extortionate Wolfwood thought, privately agreeing with his companion. What he said was quite different.

'-Absolutely fine!' he finished for his friend, putting one, restraining brown hand upon Vash's shoulder and flashing his friendliest grin, 'here's the money!'

When the barman had finished counting the coins the two men retreated to one of the back tables with the bottle and two glasses.

'Thirty Double Dollars,' whined Vash under his breath as he took a seat, 'I could have bought three bottles of this for twenty Double Dollars in December!'

'Don't see what you're complaining about,' said Wolfwood, also taking a seat, 'I paid for it.'

Vash shrugged, conceding the point. Inside, Wolfwood relaxed, keeping Vash out of trouble was like keeping a child out of a cookie jar sometimes, but it was well worth it.

The Gunslinger opened the whisky bottle with relish and poured them both very generous helpings of the golden nectar.

'Cheers!' he crowed, raising his glass to the ceiling then, with one quick motion, before downing it all in one almighty gulp.

Wolfwood raised one dark eyebrow speculatively as he took a sip from his own glass. Vash was drinking like a man who's trying to forget something.

'Ahhhhh!' sighed The Stampede, slamming down his glass, 'that hit the spot!' he thumped his chest to emphasise the comment then reached over to grab the bottle once more.

Wolfwood's hand shot forward, grabbing Vash's forearm.

'You know,' he said, 'drinking… its fun, but it's not a way to live, you can't lose you past that way.'

'Yeah,' agreed Vash, his face suddenly turning solemn, thoughtful, 'drink is no escape from pain, but it's a brief reprieve. I deserve that kinda break every now and then, right?'

Wolfwood let go of Vash's arm, allowing him to take up the bottle once more and pour some liquor into his glass.

'Hey,' said Vash suddenly, a playful grin spreading across his face, 'you know what goes really well with drink? Drinking songs! Here I know one… One evening as the sun went down, and the jungle fire was burning. Down the track came a hobo hikin' and he said boys I'm not turnin'. I'm headed for a land that's far away, besides the crystal fountain. So come with me we'll go and see the big rock candy mountain!'(1)

Resisting the urge to put his hands to his ears, Wolfwood put up with the dreadful, semi drunk singing until Vash had finished his third glass.

'So,' said the Priest, when Vash was in between verses, 'what was going on between you and that Rem then?'

Vash suddenly fell silent, the goofy smile wiped from his face, he spent a moment staring contemplatively into his glass, 'that,' he said eventually, 'isn't any of your concern.'

'It's bothering you,' put in Nicholas, 'so it's my concern. Besides, if I don't get you to talk you're gonna start singing again and my ears can't handle any more of that!'

Vash smiled wanly, 'alright,' he said, 'but… it's kind of a long story and some of it's gonna sound a little crazy…'

'Needle Noggin, with you everything is crazy. Besides, we've got time. It's not as if there's much else to do around here. So tell me, who is this Rem?'

'Rem is…' Vash paused, 'Rem was someone very, very special to me, but that woman you met before wasn't her, she was just using her name.'

'Why's that?'

'Well… it all starts over twenty years ago, just after the destruction of July…'

(1) Lyrics taken from Big Rock Candy Mountain, I'm not sure who it belongs to, but it ain't me!

Notes: Back to July next chapter, sorry if this one sucked but, as you can see, this is… complex…

Reader's Replies:

LeDiz: Yeah, you about summerized the situation nicely, and yeah, things are gonna get very painful… as you can guess from this. I hope in inspires you to write me!

Thoughtlesswanderer: Thanks for the complement, glad I've got you hooked. But don't worry, things will resolve themselves eventually!

Ron The Future Weasel: Hehehe… maybe teasing isn't the right word… but something like that.

Mangaqueen13: Thanks! The first one was fun to write, spooky is good though I thought that the last chapter was kinda spooky too… I hope you say hooked and please keep on reviewing, it's my life blood!

Saraki: Don't worry, all will be revealed in time, and you'll soon understand exactly what is going on… things are not, needless to say, as they appear.

Lady Shadowcat: I'm not going to confirm or deny any of your suggestions, because I don't want to give anything away. Though the answers right in front of your face if you look at things the correct way… but don't worry, things will become clear soon.

Thanks for reviewing everyone, keep it up!

Next Chapter: It's back to July in the past and Vash settles into his… old life? Thing seem good, seem right, but something odd is niggling at his mind…


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Stripped to the waist, Vash sat by the cracked mirror, shaving his face. It was hard, he'd already obtained several small cuts, but then almost everything was hard to do without his left hand. It was odd how many tasks suddenly became almost impossible, how much he had relied on it for balance, co-ordination and even as a simple prop.

Not that he could remember using it for any one job in particular, much of his recollection was sill a fuzzy haze, but he knew he'd used it for a lot.

He'd been living with Rem for over four months now… well, that wasn't true. He'd been living with her for over a year, ever since they'd been married but he could only recall the last four months.

It was very frustrating.

He liked Rem a lot; she was kind and looked after him in every way. She'd bathed, fed, watered and clothed him. Without her the gangs would have torn him apart in the streets because, for some reason, they had connected him with some other guy, Vash the Stampede.

Vash knew he wasn't that man, Rem had said so, she said it was just a case of mistaken identity and that it would all be sorted out soon enough.

Not that life was bliss, it was very hard. Rem wouldn't even let him outside, though she had to go out on a regular basis to gather food and other supplies. They were currently living in the cellar of their old home, now mere rubble above them. It was cramped, dirty and dark but Vash didn't mind. So long as he was with Rem…

He frowned to himself in the mirror, watching as his reflection crease it's brow in puzzlement, it was strange though… for although he was happy he was also… troubled.

Well, he had a right to, didn't he? It wasn't as if everything was just rosy, the entire city had been destroyed! It was a small miracle they were still alive, that they still had food and water enough…

Rem had said that, sooner or later, the Refugee vehicles would come and they could leave with them, head off to a new city and make a new life but for now at least, they were stuck here.

That wasn't what was bothering him, though… the thing that bothered him… the thing that bothered him was that… he couldn't tell what was bothering him. And that was bothersome in itself.

Something was wrong, he felt sure of it, something was not quite right. Yet it all seemed right, in a way, seemed good, but it also seemed wrong. When he tried to figure out what was wrong, though, he met this kind of mental barrier in his mind, like a block he just couldn't pass. So now he'd more or less given up trying, things would sort themselves out, sooner or later.

He paused from his shaving and looked at himself in the mirror, studying his reflection. Not for the first time he allowed his hand to trace across the network of scars that covered his chest and much of his body.

'Vash, what's wrong?'

He turned at the sound of that sweet voice, Rem stood just behind him, a dirty dish cloth in her hands. She'd just finished off doing the washing in an old brass tub they possessed.

'How did I get these again?' asked Vash, his hand still tracing the scars.

'In the fight, remember? When you were jumped by those thugs and lost your arm?'

Vash nodded, yes, she'd told him about that. He'd gone out, just after the disaster, to look for the sheriff and he'd been attacked by some vigilantes who'd shot off his arm and beaten him to a pulp before running off, leaving him for dead. Luckily Rem had found him and brought him back, he'd be dead without her to take care of him.

'Yeah,' he said, 'but most of these are old, see? I can't have got all of those scars in the fight…'

'Well,' said Rem carefully, 'you got most of those back in our home town. You… you used to be a deputy to the sheriff.'

'I did!' Vash felt a surge of excitement at this, 'was I good?'

'Very,' laughed Rem, 'you were an excellent deputy, but you left that life behind when you came here, right?'

'I guess so,' sighed Vash, he frowned, 'did I use a gun?'

'Of course.'

'Was I a good shot?'

Another, long pause, 'I suppose so,' she replied, sounding uncertain.

'Oh…' he fell silent for a while, then spoke, 'Rem I didn't… I didn't kill anyone, did I?'

He couldn't keep the note of high pitched fear out of his voice. He didn't know why but the thought of killing someone, of making them go away and never come back, it terrified him beyond words. He tried to remember why it made him feel so dreadful, why it filled him with revulsion but once again he faced that strange, mental barrier.

'Rem?' he squeaked again, having received no answer from her.

'No…' she said at last, though her words were halting, 'no, as far as I know you never killed anyone.'

'Oh, good,' sighed Vash, relief flooding through his veins, 'Rem… if I did… if I did kill someone… could you ever forgive me?'

'Silly Vash,' giggled Rem, putting her arms around him, 'I'd forgive you almost anything, you know that!'

He smiled and for a brief moment felt some measure of contentment flood through his body. They remained there for a while, just holding each other. Eventually Rem's hand sneaked up to his head to brush his spiky gold locks.

'You know,' she drawled, 'you really need a hair cut… this is too long and too spiky!'

'But I like it spiky,' pouted Vash.

'Mmmm… but it looks silly… when we get out of this place we'll go to a barber and give you a nice, short, sensible hair cut… you'd like that, wouldn't you?'

'I guess so,' conceded Vash, he supposed he would like anything she gave him.

'Good,' she purred, her hand falling back to his chest. Slowly, gently, her fingers moved upon his bare skin in a way that had nothing to do with medical check ups or mere curiosity.

'R-Rem?' stuttered Vash.

'Shhh love,' she whispered, biting his ear softly, 'let's go to bed…'

'But I'm not sleepy.'

'Good… neither am I!'

Vash allowed her to pull him to his feet and lead him to the bed. Something within him said that this was wrong, some how, very, very, very wrong. Yet… yet this was Rem. He loved Rem. How could this be wrong? Rem would never do anything to hurt him. Rem would never make him do anything he didn't want, not deep down. Rem would never lie to him, would she? No. Never.

Never…

'So… on the first night a pebble falls to earth…'

Vash sang under his breath as he prepared their dinner, he was getting more and more accustomed to his predicament. Learning ways to cope with only one arm, he hardly ever fell over now and could do most tasks without too much difficulty. Sure, he needed help with some things, but soon he'd be just fine!

Tonight, for example, Rem had allowed him to make dinner whilst she sewed up some old cloths. He'd asked her if she was going to sew up his old coat but she said she wasn't going to. After all, it was the coat he'd worn as the Sheriff's deputy, he didn't really need it any more. It was an ugly coat; anyway, it reminded her of bad things.

Vash actually rather liked it, but he didn't quibble with her, if it upset Rem then it simply had to go.

'That's a nice song,' she said.

'You should know,' he laughed, 'you taught it me! I just remembered the rest of the verses just today; it's your song, Rem. I know it!'

Rem blinked, as if shocked, then she smiled, 'yes,' she laughed, 'yes, I suppose so; I'd just forgotten how much I liked it, that's all!'

There was something then, something in her wide blue eyes which bothered him, but he ignored it. It was probably nothing.

He returned his attention to cooking dinner. He'd made the rice now, and the source but the meal needed something else…

Ah, vegetables, some carrots perhaps… they had some of those.

He reached into one of the packing cases that served as cupboards in their subterranean shelter and took out a couple of the orange root vegetables. They were hardly the freshest or nicest examples of their kind, but they'd work well enough in this meal.

Now… he needed to cut them up… he needed a knife… where were the knives… where were… were… was…

_'Hey, Vash!'__­_

Rem turned to him, 'Vash?' she called, 'Vash, are you alright? You look a bit-'

'Knives,' muttered Vash, 'where… where…where's Knives?'

'To the side of you,' explained Rem, sounding a little puzzled 'where they usually are.'

'No… no… Knives. Where's Knives?' Vash was almost frantic now, his words coming out as desperate shrieks, 'Knives! I must find him! Knives he… he…'

Vash got no further than that, for suddenly the room around him span, the dark air pressed in against him, the dull, throbbing pain from his arm, which still hadn't receded completely, blossomed into full agony.

He gave a little sigh of shock and fell sideways, crashing to the floor in a boneless heap.

He could dimly hear Rem's screams ringing in his ears as darkness claimed him entirely.

E liHe lH

Readers Replies:

LeDiz: Yeah, I always finish whole stories before I post them. Hope this chapter satisfied, but don't worry, things are far from over yet. I don't know that you'd call Vash 'standard,' though. I mean, I find him much harder to write than Wolfwood, because although Wolfwood shares a lot in common with Vash, (he has the amazing capacity to be just as goofy, you know, and just as much of a rogue,) he's not as schizophrenic. I mean, Vash can be as manic as anything one second and absolutely angsty and depressed. No one, not even he, is entirely sure of what he's feeling and… AGUH! Wolfwood is nice and dark and fun, but I don't know I could describe what Vash is… Wow, that continued for a long time, I'll stop ranting now…

MidgetMinion: Thanks! I thought it was a cool narrative device because it allows me to reveal the story slowly, but with all the detail I need. We are getting to the more… interesting parts now. From this chapter on things are going to get very hectic…

Saraki: Hehe, I hope this update was soon enough for you! Please review again, it'll probably encourage me to post faster.

Mangaqueen13: I… don't think I really understood your review… but thanks anyway.

Ron The Future Weasel: Thanks! I was very happy with the money part too, because it seemed so Vashlike. The guy does have very sharp senses, after all, it seemed very… in keeping with the characters. I apologise for the constant teasing, but things are moving along now, as you can see. And I'm VERY glad the interactions are going well.

Ninja Chic: Nice to have a new reviewer, I hope I have you hooked too! What did you think of this chapter?

The Lazy Fairy: Actually I think I've seen Rock Candy Mountain used in another Trigun fic, but only in passing. I just think it's the perfect song for Vash, the kind of place he'd sing about often, you know? It's a sweet ol' thing. I'm glad you like this fic and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!

NEXT CHAPTER: It's back to the present and there's an important altercation in the bar.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Wolfwood leant back and stubbed out his cigarette.

'So,' he said at last, 'that's the story, eh?'

Vash nodded, his eyes fixed upon his half empty glass of whisky. He'd barely touched his drink since starting his tale.

'Mmmm…' muttered the priest.

'What do you mean, mmmm?' asked Vash.

'I mean… mmmm…'

The gunslinger frowned, 'you're very irritating!'

'Learned from the best,' replied Wolfwood, a smile creeping into existence upon his face.

For a moment Vash looked puzzled then, slowly, his own features split into a smile. A genuine, innocent, happy smile. It was the kind of expression he loved to see on Vash, the kind of expression he would kill to see more of. Literally.

His heart lurched and tightened at the thought. Dear God, if only this was allowed to happen more often. If every child in his care was allowed to grow up like this, allowed to stay pure and innocent and with such high values, if they could keep that in this harsh, ruined world…

The priest sighed and shook his head, breaking the precious moment between the two friends, sitting dreaming wouldn't get him anywhere.

'Anyway, you're a one to talk,' he grunted.

'Hey, I'm not that irritating,' protested Vash, 'you're the one who-'

'I'm not talking about that,' replied Nicholas sharply and Vash fell silent. His two, strange eyes widening in confusion.

He might have said something then, but their conversation was put to a stop when a new figure barged into the bar.

Rem.

As soon as he caught sight of her, Vash shut down. His face became stiff, immobile and whilst he had no shades to hide his eyes, his eyes did take a strange, glassy quality, as if the inner light of both pain and joy had been hidden.

For a moment Wolfwood felt a sudden surge of hatred to the woman, felt a surge of hatred to anyone who could do this to such a gentle soul. He quickly reigned the feeling in, though, he had a feeling his hatred was the last thing this situation needed.

Rem, or whoever she was, strode up to the table the two men sat at. She looked much the same as she had a few hours ago, save perhaps for certain redness beneath her eyes, a certain puffiness to her cheeks.

She matched straight up to them and, Wolfwood was sure she was going to hit Vash then but she didn't.

She grabbed something from within the folds of her dress and, with surprising speed for such an old woman, slammed an object down upon the table.

It was a small, ratty purse. It landed with a 'clinking' sound which indicated it was full of coins, double dollars for the taking.

The sound of money hitting the table was enough to draw the attention of many of the bar's customers towards the threesome. Wolfwood's muscles tensed, this looked like the perfect recipe for trouble.

'In the street,' hissed Rem, 'I heard you mention that you hadn't any money to get out of town, well here! This is one hundred and twenty Double Dollars, my life savings. It should be enough for fuel to get you to the next town and out of here. Go on, take it!'

'No.' replied Vash simply, staring ahead with his cold, blank blue-green eyes, not looking at her.

The more pragmatic part of Nicholas was currently screaming at Vash to take the damn money, but the priest held his tongue. He knew the gunslinger never would.

'Why?' asked Rem, evidently not understanding, 'why can't you even give me the dignity of getting out of town? Why do you torture me like this?'

'Because… because I owe you enough already, I won't be any further in your debt.'

The old woman gave a manic grin, 'yes,' she said, 'yes, you are in my debt. You'd be dead without me and you don't even have the balls to show me the respect… the gratitude I deserve. I trusted you… I gave you my all and you threw it back in my face!'

'Trust?' Vash's voice was tight, 'trust? You lied to me, lied about everything just so you could use me. Should I be grateful to you for that?'

Rem gasped at his comment, her thin mouth opening in closing in gulps of surprise. Wolfwood decided this was as good an opportunity to say anything as he was going to get.

'Listen lady,' he said, trying to sound calm and reasonable, 'I understand that you're feeling pretty screwed, but I guess my friend here's pretty annoyed and he's got his reasons. Perhaps we could talk about this later?'

'Later?' echoed the woman incredulously, turning her attention to him, 'I've been waiting twenty five years to talk to this man! If I leave it he'll just run away, like he always does. He can't face the truth, not really, not when a lie is so much prettier. That's the thing with this man, you know that mister? He never faces up to the truth.'

'Shut up!' whispered Vash, his voice tight and horse, he was angry. Very, very angry. In fact, Wolfwood had never seen him so enraged; the look on his face was enough to make him cringe, his eyes seemed to be bluer than usual. Seemed to be almost glowing with fury..

As if scenting blood, the old woman moved in for the kill, 'what is it Vash?' she jeered, 'finally getting through? Well, you know the truth, you hypocrite, you can lie to me, you can lie to him, but you can't keep lying to yourself. I know that… I know that now…'

At the mention of the name 'Vash,' the attention of every single customer in the bar, (which thankfully wasn't that many,) was turned towards the trio. This really wasn't looking good.

'And you know what else?' added Rem, 'I know about lies now. You know what a lie is? You know what betrayal is? You know what pain is? It's taking in a man, a pitiful, beaten, starving, mutilated man who's near death. A man you have reason to believe is the one who's taken everything from you. It's caring for that man, feeding him, clothing him, bathing him, giving him everything, even your love. Its doing every damn thing you can and watching it all being taken away again, watching that man leave you, abandon you. Watching him walk away and not even try to talk things out, not even giving you a chance to explain. It's watching everything you love die… again. That's what betrayal is, Vash, that's what pain is… I thought you might understand that… I thought…

Tears were now once again trickling down the old woman's cheeks, her voice hitched in her throat. Wolfwood was amazed that her little speech hadn't affected the Humanoid Typhoon, but evidently it hadn't for he remained cold and hard.

'What do you want?' asked Vash harshly, 'tell me what you want, get this over with!'

'I want to apologise,' wailed the woman, 'I just want to say I'm sorry! Can't you even accept that from me any more?'

Silence fell upon the bar for a moment, Wolfwood could almost hear his own heart beat in the pause as all eyes were fixed upon the gunslinger and the old woman.

'No,' said Vash at last, 'I can't… because I don't know that it's true.'

'Can't?' whispered Rem, 'can't? After all that you…' her voice faded off into stunned silence, and then she laughed, a horrible, manic laugh, 'it's true,' she screeched, 'it's true! You really are a monster, Vash the Stampede! You really are a fiend, that you can't even accept this! Can't even accept the apology of a poor, old woman! You're as bad as anything, you… you… you really aren't human!'

Her laugher had dissolved into tears by now as she wrapped her spindly arms around herself and rocked back and forth on her heels, floods of tears trickling down her bony face.

However, Wolfwood's attention was turned her by the telltale sound of guns being unsheathed.

He looked around to see that every customer in the bar, plus the bar man, had withdrawn their guns and was pointing them at them.

'Hey, hey!' objected the priest, putting his hands up, 'what's all this about! Surely you don't believe this crazy old bird!'

His words prompted a fresh bout of wailing from Rem, but he ignored her. This wasn't the time to be concerned about hurt feelings.

The barman shrugged, lifting his own large, rusty revolver, 'with all this talk of lies an' such, I ain't sure what's true and what ain't. But, the way I sees it, it's best to be on the safe side, aye lads?'

There were grunts of approval and agreement from around the grimy bar.

'Aw come on, guys!' protested Vash, his voice reverting to its usual, whiny tone, 'do I look like that kinda guy? I don't even have the coat! Say… you wouldn't just shoot two innocent men 'cos of some crazy girl, would you?'

'Well,' said one man, his voice slightly slurred from drink, 'if you've winded up here it's not as if anyone's gonna miss you. 'Sides, if we turn out right, then we get a reward, right lads?'

The other patrons of the bar voiced their agreement by opening fire.

As always happened at the sound of gunfire, the world tilted into slow motion for Wolfwood and Vash.

Nicholas threw himself backwards, angling his foot so that it struck the corning of their table, knocking it over. The whisky and glasses smashed against the floors and wall but the table itself landed on its side, making a sort of cover. It wouldn't last long but it was a start.

Vash also threw himself backwards, aiming to fall next to Nicholas but, as he did so, he reached out and grabbed the old woman by the back of her patched dress.

She tumbled down with him but it was too late.

A random, badly aimed bullet, one most likely targeted for the gunslinger, spun through the air and struck her instead. Wolfwood watched as it burrowed through her clothing and flesh, watched as blood spurted from her chest and sprayed into the air. She cried out once before falling to the ground besides him and Vash.

The gunslinger worked quickly, putting the woman on her side and tearing off some of his clothes, using them to make a bandage. Meanwhile Wolfwood got a couple of shots off with is revolver, hitting one man in the shoulder and shooting the gun out of another man's hands.

He'd left his Cross Punisher just outside the city, along with his bike, thinking that it was too distinctive and attention drawing. He'd just taken a revolver, but now he cursed the decision, he had hoped this wouldn't end in a shooting war.

Besides him he heard Vash swear, the old woman was bleeding profusely, her life blood pooling on the floor around her, despite Vash's efforts to stem it.

'Damn,' he swore, 'we need a doctor, Wolfwood?'

He looked speculatively towards the priest who sighed, 'yeah, I'll get it,' he said, nodding towards the open door, 'if you can provide cover?'

Vash nodded grimly, taking out his sliver Colt.

'Sure you can take care of them?' asked Wolfwood, smiling.

'A bunch of drunks? I'm not completely incompetent you know.'

Wolfwood muttered something which sounded suspiciously like 'you could have fooled me,' before running out of the bar at full tilt.

The rogue priest's long legs carried him across the saloon and out into the street, Vash covering for him admirably. Soon his boots were pounding on sand rather than stone and he was running desperately down the empty road, his eyes searching for a building, any building that looked remotely like a surgery or a hospital. Behind him gun shots rang out into the air and the miniature war in the bar continued.

Damn, why did it always have to end like this?

Review Replies.

Yay! Lots of reviews make Yma a happy writer!

Reiora: Thanks very much, do you always talk in third person? It's very neat!

Ninja chic: Like Knives? May I humbly recommend How Far is Eden to you then? It's another fic of mine, set after the series. It's quite long, (though the chapters themselves are rather short,) but it's told exclusively from Knives point of view. You might like it.

Dolentrean: Yay! A new reader! I'm glad you're liking this… Trigun is a very mixed fandom at the momment, there are some excellent writers about, but there are also a lot of horrible Mary Sues too. You have been warned!

LeDiz: Nah, you've got it just right! I'm very glad that's coming across. It just always occurred to me that, in some ways, Vash is still a very childlike figure, happily accepting whatever Rem tells him. Add to that amnesia, confusion and trauma he's… well… you know what I mean! I'm just happy it came across in the writing! And more will be revealed about 'Rem,' later on…

Saraki: Don't worry, I do tend to update fairly often and regularly, though reviews always spur me on!

Mangaqueen13: Yeah, I was worried it would be a bit obvious but it obviously worked so… yeah, thanks!

ChibiSess: Bwahahaha! Hooked! You don't know what you've let yourself in for! But seriously, thanks for adding this to your faves, I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Shannon Holmes: Thanks! I hope you keep reviewing!

Next Chapter: Back to the past! And a dreadful, creeping realization comes to Vash… but what will he do about it?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

He awoke on the padded cot which served as his bed, the world spun around him, both literally and figuratively. He let out low groan.

Rem appeared above him, a concerned look on her pretty features.

'Vash?' she said, 'Vash… are you alright?'

Vash managed to let out a soft whimper in reply and with some effort forced himself up onto his elbows.

Rem was by his side in an instant, supporting him and handing him a cup of tepid water. He gulped it down eagerly; grateful for both the drink and the time it took to drink it. His thoughts were in chaos and he needed a moment to think before he answered any of the questions poor Rem was likely dying to ask.

'Well?' asked Rem, as predicted, 'what happened? Are you alright?'

'I think so,' he replied and paused, 'I… I dreamed… I remembered some thing else…'

'What?' she sounded… apprehensive which was not entirely what Vash had hoped, he'd hoped she would be enthusiastic, happy at the fact he'd remembered something.

'I remembered Knives,' he said, 'my brother, Knives… Rem, why didn't you tell me about him?'

Rem blinked, 'I honestly didn't know you had a family,' she said, sounding perfectly innocent and honest, 'you see you were always a bit of a drifter. You came into our home town six years ago to find work as a deputy. The sheriff took you in and after a couple of years we got together, as I said. Then-'

'After we got married we moved to July to start a new life,' finished Vash dully, 'yeah I know but… but why didn't you tell me about this?'

'You hardly ever mentioned any family,' explained Rem, 'and when you did you sounded so sad. I never really asked further, I thought there'd been some sort of family feud or something. I never knew you had a brother.'

'But why didn't you tell me about that! Why didn't you tell me you didn't know who my family were!' he was a little angry, he couldn't deny it, how could she have kept this from him?

'How was I supposed to tell you something I didn't know?' retorted Rem, sounding upset herself now, 'and besides, why should I remind you of something that was obviously so sad? I don't want you to remember the sad, pointless things in your life, Vash; I just want you to be happy!'

Her voice trembled with these last few words and the guilt hit Vash like a tonne of bricks. He moved forward and put his arms round her, instantly regretting his hash tone.

'I'm sorry Rem,' he murmured, 'please… just forget about it, ok? Don't be sad… it doesn't matter.'

Rem sniffed against his shoulder, 'alright,' she whispered, 'I'm sorry I kept it from you… I just want us to be happy. I want us to be together. Nothing else matters as long as we're together.'

'Yeah,' agreed Vash, though in his heart he doubted it. Something nagged at him and when he smiled at her, it was because of sheer muscle control, not with any sort of real happiness.

Rem didn't seem to notice though, she just gave a small smile of her own and kissed him fiercely, a kiss he returned as eagerly and honestly as he could.

They remained like that for quite a while, holding each other for comfort. Vash ran the fingers of his one hand through her hair, feeling the shiny, black ringlets straighten out briefly before bouncing back into position.

Odd, he didn't recall Rem having ringlets before… though she'd had them ever since he'd woken up for the first time, perhaps she'd changed it recently.

Rem moved out of his embrace then, her eyes still sparkling from unshed moisture.

'Vash,' she crooned, 'do you think you'll be alright here for a little while? I really need to go outside to do some scavenging whilst it's still dark. I won't go far.'

'Ok,' replied Vash hoarsely, watching as, grabbing a duffle bag to store any items in, she got up to leave.

She flashed him another soft smile before turning on her heel and moving up the rickety stairs of their small, subterranean abode. Soon she had the trap door open and had slipped out into the cold, barren night. Leaving Vash alone with his thoughts.

He put his head in his hand and shivered, trying to dispel the dreams, the flashes of image's he'd received in his sleep. But they flashed through his head anyway, broken, fragmented, teasing him with hints and clues…

_They were in a bright, sunny place lying on grass. The sky was blue and yellow butterflies danced through the air. He watched the Other (Knives?) stretch his hand out as if trying to catch the sun, his hair was a long mass of white gold._

**The butterfly is caught in the spider's web, it struggles desperately for survival as the arachnid comes closer…**

_­­­ He was flying, floating in a metal tube, he was crying. But he wasn't sad, not any more, because Knives was with him, holding him, 'you're crying again…'_

**… it's almost there now, so he brings his hands forward, ready to do… something… **

_A tree, full of red apples gleaming in the sunlight stretched above them, tall, proud, old. Fragments of a conversation lost to the wind except Knives' question, 'Do you think I'll be eaten too someday?'_

**… he's going to rescue them both, his hands are nearly there but, at the last moment, as if taking advantage of his hesitation, the spider increases it's pace, dancing across the web. It's almost reached the struggling butterfly when…**

_The room was dark, dark except for the gleaming white computer screens. And, painted pail silver in their light, sat Knives. His hair cut short around his head, the cast off locks were scattered about him like strands of moonlight. 'If we stay the same we'll have no individuality.'_

**…another set of pail hands surge forward, snatching the spider and squashing it between small fingers. The web breaks and the butterfly flutters free. He turns to see…**

_A small smile creeps across Knives' childish mouth, half hidden by the steam from a cup of coffee, 'he's afraid,' he mutters._

**…There's screaming and yelling, broken up by flashes of white, a confusion and chaos of imagery but for the smiling, innocent face of Knives, clutching the dead, broken spider. Then, towards the end, his terrified, angry, betrayed expression as he lies on the grass below him, tears rimming his wide blue eyes. Nothing was ever the same after that**

Vash flung his head back and screamed, it didn't make sense! Nothing made sense! Everything was wrong!

Rem had said what had happened had explained it all but… but…

He flung off the blankets that covered him and got to his feet, staggering a little. He tottered across the room, desperately trying to find something solid, something safe.

Inevitably his attention turned to a small, battered case in the corner. He lurched towards it and with a mighty heave yanked it open.

It's only contents were those items he'd been found with, a strange, silver Colt gun and his crimson coat, torn and dirty.

He grabbed onto them almost without thinking, holding them close to his body as if he could squeeze an explanation out of them, as if they were his only life line.

It didn't make any sense! He was here, with Rem, but he didn't feel like he was with her! It was like he was drowning on land, trying to desperately gulp the air he should have access to even as his lungs filled up with water.

Tears leaked from his eyes, he didn't even try to stop them. What was wrong! Why was Rem lying to him! She had to be… he could see it in her eyes but… but… Rem never lied, did she? Rem couldn't lie, not to him.

Yet she had lied, she must have or everything wouldn't feel so wrong, so confusing! How could he find out anything if she didn't tell him? How was he to know what was true and what wasn't? How?

He sniffed and wiped his eyes upon the tattered remains of his coat.

There was only one path available to him, one answer and he hated it, hated it like he'd hated nothing else before. The mere thought made him feel sick, ill… yet if he didn't…

He forced himself to his feet and slipped on the red coat. It fitted like a glove, despite its dishevelled appearance and to his surprise it felt… good.

For the first time in a long while he felt comfortable, more himself, it was as if he'd put his own skin back on again. The strange disquiet feeling in his soul hadn't abated, but it was somewhat less. He felt stronger… braver… more determined.

Yes… he would do this, he would take the road available to him because it was the only road to take, the best road to take. And he could do it too, he had to, for both their sakes.

He picked up the gun, its weight in his one hand was familiar and empowering. He slipped it into the scuffed and tarnished holster at his hip.

Then, grabbing a tattered brown blanket to cover himself with, he carefully made his way upstairs and out of the cellar.

She hadn't gone very far yet and using the tracking knowledge he didn't even know he possessed, he soon found her scrounging amongst the ruins of another house.

'Rem!' he called and she turned to face him, a look of pure horror on her face.

'Vash!' she screamed back, running towards him, 'what are you doing out! If someone sees you then-'

'That doesn't matter,' he interrupted, 'Rem… I needed to talk to you, I needed to talk to you now…'

'Why? I… I don't understand.'

'Because I couldn't go. I couldn't leave, not without saying goodbye.'

To Be Continued…

Review Replies:

Saraki: Yeah, it was kinda stupid of her to go saying that, wasn't it? But then, she was rather distressed. Don't worry though, reason enough will be given for her actions later.

LeDiz: I am, indeed, evil. But you should know this by now! Well, we all knew you'd start feeling sorry for 'Rem' one way or another. It's just gonna happen. Sorry! Yay! I got Wolfwood good! I is very happy now (: 'Cos, you know, though Vash is my fave character, I do love the priest too. Who wouldn't? Oh, and if you think this gets his bad/good side, there might be a little something later on which will make you grin.

ChibiSess: True, Vash is being a bit of an ass, but it's a major betrayal, you know. I mean, it's REM! The woman he loves more than anything else and… well… just keep on reading. I hope I manage to get his point across to.

MidgetMinion: Sorry I've not updated for a bit, I do try but I just get swamped with work occasionally. Glad I got the conversations right, Vash and Wolfwood are SO difficult to do. It's nice to know I've Officially Hooked someone. Does that mean I get a certificate in the post or something (:

Mangaqueen13: Thanks, and here's more!

Stonehart: It's so nice of you to review all my stories, I really appreciate it! I hope this one continues to live up to your expectations.

Zolac no Miko: Yay! So good to see you around mate! I take it you're enjoying this too? It really is good to see your little reviews again :hug: I'm actually rather glad that you, and most other's, don't like Rem. As an original, Female, OC, with a semi romantic background with Vash, it's SO easy to drop her in the Mary Sue status, so I'm glad I avoided that. Vash can be very childlike, he sees the world in black and white shades generally, and he is certainly childlike with it comes to Rem. She is his ultimate mother/lover figure, he trusts her absolutely and implicitly. Which is not necessarily a good thing. I hope you continue to enjoy this and I look forward to reading more of your reviews!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, please keep it up! I'm sorry for taking so long to get this chapter up. My bad. I'll try to be faster in future. Next time it's back to the present once more and Vash makes an important decision.

See you there!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The gun fight had ended in the usual manner. A couple of men had been injured, a few more knocked unconscious but most had just peed their pants and run away. The bar, needless to say, was so much steaming wreckage.

Nicholas had returned with a doctor just as Vash had staggered out, the bleeding body or Rem (or whoever she was) limp in his arms.

From there they'd taken her to a hospital and the doctor had put her straight into surgery, pronouncing that is was impossible to tell at this stage how severe her injuries were.

Now the two men stood outside the semi crumbling building that served as the town's hospital. There was, surprisingly enough, a small waiting room inside but both had eschewed it, partly because neither of them had much fondness for hospitals and partly because they wouldn't let Wolfwood smoke.

The priest was puffing away even now, leaning casually against the white walls of the building whilst Vash casually threw stones out into the street, playing a game only he knew the rules to.

'Well,' sighed Wolfwood, 'so much for keeping a low profile.'

'Don't blame me,' whinged Vash, 'it's not my fault everyone's so tense around here… it must be the high liquor prices.'

Wolfwood grunted, shifting the smoking cigarette around to the other corner of his mouth, 'it was a good thing that you did back there,' he said at last, the words coming out somewhat uneasily. He wasn't used to praising Vash, especially to his face.

'Yeah well,' muttered Vash, smiling, 'it wasn't anything I wouldn't have done for anyone else.'

'True, but that woman isn't just anyone else, is she?'

Vash's smile faded, he threw another stone out into the street.

'Come on, Needle Noggin,' said Wolfwood, determined not to let this matter drop, 'spill it.'

'What?'

'Why you're so angry at that woman.'

'After what she did, don't you think I have a right to be a little upset?'

'Firstly, you're more than a little upset and secondly, the fact that you were angry at her doesn't bother me. The fact that you're _still_ angry at her, the fact you haven't forgiven her, that's what bothers me.'

Vash scowled and turned away, glaring determinedly at the street, getting ready for what looked like a major pout and/or sulk session.

Wolfwood would be damned if he was going to let that happen.

'Listen up idiot,' he sighed, 'I don't pretend to know everything about you, but I do know you're haunted by your past, that much you showed when you tried to be Eriks. And if you haven't noticed, running away from your past doesn't help any.'

'This is nothing like that,' growled the gunslinger.

'Nope,' said Wolfwood, 'this is exactly like that, in fact, it's so similar that you're too afraid to realize it.'

Wolfwood paused to take a deep drag from his cigarette, 'Needle Noggin,' he continued at last, 'I don't much like preaching to people, despite my profession. So I'm only going to say this once and if it doesn't knock some sense into that thick skull of yours then it's not my problem. What that lady did, whoever she is, it weren't no worse than what you did as Eriks. You're angry she lied to you, well… I don't think she did. She's like you, she pretended because she was lost, alone, because she needed someone. She did what she thought was best for everyone and maybe she screwed up, but she didn't mean to hurt you. She's only human, we all make mistakes, and she's trying to move on from hers, to set it to rights. The only question is… are you going to hold her to those mistakes?'

'You don't understand,' muttered Vash, his eyes down cast, 'she pretended to be Rem… when I realized… it was like I lost her all over again… she defiled Rem's memory, one of the most precious things to me…'

'Yeah, well, Rem's dead,' sighed Wolfwood, leaning back, 'but that woman ain't. You've got a choice, Vash, you can walk away from this. But if you do then the memory will be dogging your heels for a long while, count on it.'

'So you're saying I should say sorry to her? How? How can I say that and mean it?'

'You don't need to mean it, so long as she believes it then she'll be happy, she'll forgive you. Then… well… maybe you can forgive yourself.'

'What is that supposed to mean?'

'I already told you, isn't my fault if your to dumb to work it out.'

Vash chuckled, 'you really are a pain in the butt, you know that? Why are you so bothered about this, anyway?'

Wolfwood's mouth twisted into his trade mark, crooked grin, 'just want to know if you'll forgive me when I shoot you in the back.'

For a moment Vash's face was utterly immobile, stunned. Nicholas's heart missed a beat. He couldn't… he couldn't… could he?

Then Vash grinned, 'don't be an idiot!' he laughed.

Wolfwood joined him in his chuckling, hoping it sounded sincere, 'so, what are you going to do?'

Vash was silent, he curled his arms about his raised knees and put his head in them, adopting a silent, pensive pose. Wolfwood left him to it, this was a decision he'd have to make himself.

A while later the hospital doors opened and the doctor stepped out, his hands still bloody from surgery.

'We've done what we can,' he said, 'the wound was clean but…' he sighed, 'that lady's led a tough life and it's taken its toll on her body. At this point we can only give her a fifty/fifty chance. She didn't have any identification on her, do you know where her family are? They should be contacted.'

Vash stood up, 'I'm family,' he said, 'well… kinda. Can I go in and see her?' he flashed his most charming smile.

The doctor looked at him shrewdly but nodded, 'fair enough,' he said, 'just don't worry her or ware her out, she needs all the rest she can get if she's going to survive.'

'Alright,' said Vash.

He nodded to Wolfwood as he turned to enter the building.

Nicholas nodded back, he understood, he'd wait.

* * *

_Twenty five years ago… July…_

'What do you mean… goodbye?' asked Rem, her eyes wide, her bottom lip trembling.

'I'm going,' replied Vash, trying to keep his own, churning emotions out of his voice, 'I'm leaving you.'

'Leaving,' she echoed hoarsely, 'but… but why? Did I do something wrong? What did I do wrong?'

'No… yes… I don't know!' said Vash wretchedly, 'I've been feeling something's wrong for… for ages. I don't know what's wrong but it's nagging at me and if I don't find out what it is, then I doubt that I'll ever be happy or comfortable here.'

'Am I wrong?' shrieked Rem desperately, 'do you want me to change? I will, at an instant, just tell me what to change!'

'I told you… I don't know…'

'Then how are you going to look for something you don't know? What the hell do you expect to find out there?'

Vash's mouth opened, but only silence came out. She had a point, how was he going to find out what was wrong by just walking?

'Please Vash,' Rem pleaded, 'there's nothing out there for you to find, you'll just end up half beaten to death again, if not dead! It's suicide!'

'Rem…'

'Vash, don't go, I couldn't stand it if you left again! Please, don't leave me!'

_'I won't leave you alone! I promise, because I love you Rem!'_

The world spun around him as the words reverberated inside his head. Everything was so confusing, contradicting; he didn't want to die but was this living? He liked the reality he was living, but was this reality? He didn't want to leave Rem, but was this Rem? What was right? What could he do?

It became too much and he fell to his knees, weeping.

'Rem…' he whispered between sobs, 'Rem… I don't know what to do… what should I do?'

In an instant she was besides him, was wrapped around him, held his fragile body in her gentle arms, 'shhh,' she murmured, 'it's alright, come home with me. I'll make it alright, I'll make it good… just stay with me, come home…'

Vash could only nod, unable to find the words to say between his gasped sobs.

She helped him to his feet and, still leaning upon her, they made their slow way back to the basement.

He kept his eyes to the ground, allowing Rem to be his world, his everything. Clinging to this single facet of his existence with all his might. She was right, she would make it right, she had to. Please… god, she had to make it right…

­­­­­Suddenly she gasped and he looked up seeing, though his tears, that someone was leaving their home!

A figure dressed in torn and dirty clothing was creeping out of the trapdoor, a large sack, undoubtedly filled with pilfered possessions, slung across his shoulder. The robber turned, also hearing Rem gasp, a look of horror spreading across his dirty, stubble covered face.

Rem let out a shrill scream, clutching Vash for support; at this the robber brought his hand to his side and took out a shot gun, aiming it squarely at them.

'Vash!' screamed Rem desperately, 'your gun! Get out your gun!'

Almost without thinking Vash did as he was told, he had been about to anyway; he unsheathed his silver colt which shone dully in the murky light.

The robber looked terrified; his gun shook in his hand.

'Stop him!' yelled Rem, now moving so that she was behind Vash, using him as a shield, 'stop him!'

Vash found he could do nothing though; his throat felt dry, his hand was sticky with sweat and also trembling a little. Some small part of his brain was whispering strange things, telling him where to shoot, how to take into account wind and movement. Whispering that he should dive to the left if the robber shot, telling him where to put his feet, how to adjust for recoil, how to keep his eye on his target.

The robber, finally loosing all nerve, yelped and turned tail, still holding onto his swag, he fled.

'Stop him!' cried Rem again, 'he's got our food! You've got to stop him!'

Shoot a man in the back but… but… that was…

Wrong.

Alive, he was alive and…

Wrong, he couldn't hurt when…

But Rem said…

Rem said…

'Shoot him! Shoot him!'

Rem…

No one has the right to take the life of another.

Rem…

Her hair straight, long, black as the night's sky. Eyes, beautiful, dark brown eyes set in milk chocolate skin. A delicate, button nose, a gentle, smiling mouth…

That was Rem.

He turned, unsteady on his feet, forgetting about the escaping miscreant, and looked at the woman behind him. Saw her black ringlets, her pail skin, and her large, blue eyes.

'Who…' the words wouldn't come to him, they felt sticky and bitter in his throat.

'Vash?' her voice was wrong too, not light and airy like Rem's but soft, sultry.

'Who are you?' he asked at last, his voice faint and unsure.

'I'm Rem… you're wife. I'm-'

'NO!' he was screaming now, yelling, this was what was wrong, what was so terribly wrong, 'NO! You're not Rem! You're not! You… you lied to me…'

Once again the last words were a whisper, he found himself stepping backwards, moving away from her as if she were some monster. This cruel, foul doppelganger, this pretender.

'You lied to me…' he whispered, his voice as high and light as a child's, tears rimming his eyes.

She just looked stunned, 'Vash…'

'You… you… you lied to me… you lied!'

Then he turned and, like the robber, ran.

She screamed after him of course, calling his name over and over again. But he ignored her, he couldn't even conceive of turning back, he had to get away from this, from all the lies. He was Vash, he knew that, but she wasn't Rem. It was lies, it had all been lies.

So he ran away from the wrecked city of July, away from that terrible woman, away from it all… and he would not return for twenty five years…

To Be Continued…

* * *

Reviewers Replies!

LeDiz: Good luck on the 'not feeling sorry for people,' angle! I've some cunning things up my sleve yet, girlie! Bwahaha!

ChibiSess: Often, in life, there is no one TOO blame. And we only ever see the world from one point of view, our own. So really, where the blame lies, if it lies with anyone, is purely up to you do decide…

Mangaqueen13: Thanks! I hope you liked this one too!

Ninja Chic: You antipation is over, was it worth it?

Saraki: It's good when a story comes together, isn't it? And don't worry, there's more to be revealed yet!

Stonehart: Thanks also! Did you like this chappie too?

NEXT TIME: The truth about Rem? Can Vash forgive her? Can he forgive himself?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Vash had always possessed a love/hate relationship with hospitals. They did, by definition, save lives which could never be a bad thing. On the other hand he'd spent enough times in them, either half dead himself or watching those around him die, that they rarely held any good memories.

He only just repressed the shiver which trickled down his spine as he entered June's hospital. He was surprised at how clean and comparatively well built it was, but then the hospital must have been one of the first things to be rebuilt after the disaster. Back when a few crazy people thought that the city might recover.

He soon found her. She was awake, surprisingly enough, lying back in her bed, her grey hair, no longer in ringlets, spread around her like a monochrome halo. Her chest was covered in bandages, her skin was paper white. Her blue eyes glared at him darkly as he entered, tentatively taking a chair next to the bed. He couldn't help but notice how small she was, how wrinkled how… old.

'I suppose you've come here to tell me how we're even now,' she rasped, her voice frail and soft, 'I mean, you did save my life… thank you.'

Vash shrugged, 'it's not about that,' he said, 'it never was really, but you're welcome anyway.'

Rem sighed, 'so what are you here for then? To shout at me some more? To vent more of your rage? I'm tired, Vash and old. Please, if nothing else, leave me to die in peace.'

'You're not going to die,' muttered Vash, suddenly becoming overly interested in his hands.

Rem remained silent, neither confirming nor denying his comment.

Realizing this really wasn't getting them anywhere, Vash decided he'd have to make the first move.

He forced his facial muscles into the approximate of a smile; it wasn't one of his best. Usually the mere act of smiling made him feel better, when he smiled he could pretend things were good (or else why was he smiling in the first place?) right now he just felt as bad as before.

Still, there was no help for it.

'I just wanted you to know,' he said, trying his utmost to sound sincere, 'that… I accept your apology!'

The woman smiled up at him cynically, 'thank you Vash,' she said, 'but really, unless you mean it, it's not much comfort.'

Vash couldn't help but be shocked, very few people ever saw through his smiles or his acts. Granted, that hadn't been one of his best but still…

'How…?

'Whether it was real or not,' whispered Rem, 'I was effectively married to you for six months and I did grow to know you. You haven't changed much, Vash, I don't know why you haven't aged… I don't much care. You still use fake smiles to hide your feelings though, more than you did before I'd wager. You did it then, too… No, there's no point in accepting my apology unless you mean it. I just… I just want your forgiveness Vash… not false words.'

The gunslinger spent a moment looking at this woman, this strange, deceitful woman, small and alone upon her bed. He came to a conclusion.

'You know,' he said, 'I think I might be able to start to forgive you if you told me your name… your real name. I think I could forgive you if you told me why you did what you did. You owe me that, at least.'

The old woman looked up at him and sighed, 'well, I suppose I might as well, you're right, I do owe you some sort of explanation.'

She paused for a while, gathering her strength for the long tale, and then she began.

'My name is Sarah, the second name isn't important any more. Many years ago now, when I was a girl, I lived in a little town outside of July. My family was fairly wealthy and I lived in comfort but, sadly, I fell in love with the local Thomas Shepherd. His name was Christopher and he loved me as deeply as I loved him. Things were good for a while but, you see, my father disapproved of our match, thought he was below me. Christopher's family felt much the same way, that it would not be fitting for him to marry outside his station so, being young and impetuous, we ran away to July. We'd saved up a little money and took a house together, Christopher found a job cleaning at the local Plant and I took care of our home. Things were good; we were going to be married as soon as we had enough money. Then, about four months after we'd first come to July… you… it was destroyed.'

Vash looked away, unable to face her. He knew full well what he'd done on that day, knew that logically it wasn't really his fault but, every time he was confronted with it, it still hurt him more than anything.

'Of course,' continued Sarah, 'Christopher and I survived the initial blast, no one died in the actual… incident. But, the next day, he went off to find the sheriff and he didn't… he didn't come back. After a while I went searching for him and I found him, dead in the street, a bullet through his head. I'm not sure why they killed him except his grandmother's golden ring, the ring he was going to give me when we were married, the one he always wore on his finger, was missing. I can only suppose some robber killed him for it…' her voice faltered a little here, the grief evidently had never fully left her heart. 'So when I saw you, on that very same day, lost and alone in the ruins, likely in a similar position to me, I thought what was the harm? Especially when I learned you had no memory. I thought I was doing the right thing, something good but, in the end, I betrayed everyone. I betrayed you, I betrayed myself and I betrayed Christopher. I doubt he'll ever forgive me, in whatever paradise he's in now and I don't know if I can ever forgive myself but… but if you could forgive me, if you could understand just a little then… then perhaps when I die I can rest in peace.'

The room was silent for a long time after that, neither of the two knowing exactly what to say.

Eventually, Sarah, taking Vash's silence for some sort of scepticism, added, 'if you don't believe me then look around my neck, you'll see a locket. Inside it is a picture of us, a paining done shortly after we came to July.'

Vash reached over her and soon spied the small, silver chain of the locket. Carefully unhooking it from around her neck he soon held it in his hands. He opened it and, within, he could see a small painting of two smiling people. One instantly recognisable as Sarah, the other a tallish man with golden hair, similar to Vash's except shorter and not as spiky. Christopher, presumably.

The miniscule portrait blurred in Vash's vision and he realized that he was crying, large tears dripping down his face to fall upon the tarnished metal of the locket.

It was true and it was nothing worse than he'd ever done.

He wondered how Lina must have felt, when he'd revealed his true identity to her. She'd forgiven him, though, hadn't held any kind of anger towards him, despite the lies he'd told her.

He'd done it for the best, he always did, and it wasn't a sin.

Vash the Stampede never lied, he made stories, he pretended to be and feel things that weren't necessarily true, but that was different. Everyone did that. Right?

He wondered… was it any better?

Probably not but, after a life time of pretending, he wasn't sure if he could stop, if he even knew who he was any more, if he dared stop.

He didn't think so, not now at least but, if he was going to keep on playing pretend then he couldn't hold other people it. He understood that now.

'Sarah,' he said, 'I'll tell you what, I'll forgive you, but only if you forgive me. Deal?'

'You mean it?'

'I do.'

'Then yes, of course,' laughed Sarah, her face finally breaking out into a real grin, 'I forgive you Vash! Though I doubt you deserve it as much as I do!'

Part of Vash begged to disagree, but Sarah's smile made her look years younger and he'd hate to break or diminish that.

So he grinned back and put his right hand in hers, squeezing it lightly, a simple but tender gesture.

She frowned though, looking puzzled, 'say,' she murmured at last, 'what happened about your arm? Last I remember it was… ah… missing?'

'Yeah,' chuckled the Gunslinger, 'got me a new one! It's artificial but does just as good a job as a real one!'

'I'm glad,' said Sarah, 'but please, if you can, will you tell me your story? I'd like to know who the real Rem was… and about Knives and what you did after you ran away. I was so scared I'd killed you, you know? That you'd run off to die somewhere.'

Vash gave a small laugh, 'I'd never do that, Sarah. I can't tell you the full story, but I can answer some of your questions, if you'll let me?'

Sarah nodded and, settling into her pillows, waited for Vash to begin.

He told her an edited version of his story, leaving out many, many details but quenching the bulk of her curiosity.

When that was done they talked a little of small, inconsequential things until, at last, her voice faded away completely and the succumbed to her body's need for rest.

He left then, asking the doctor to relay any news of her condition to either him or Wolfwood.

As he stepped through the doors of the hospital, back into the open air, he felt lighter and happier than he had since arriving at July. It wasn't much of a forgiveness, wasn't much of a redemption but it was a start.

Authors Notes: Sorry for such a short chapter, the next one will be longer though. I promise!

Review Replies:

Stonehart: Thanks!

Mangaqueen13: Sorry about giving you the chills, I hope you warm up again soon! (:

ChibiSess: No prob, and to be fair it is a bit mean to call someone fat. But anyhow, I hope this story continues to please!

Keiko Sonoda: Always good to see a new reader! I hope you find your way back to this fic and enjoy more of it.

LeDiz: I'm very happy that I got Vash's emotions right. And I hope the reasons given in this chapter are good enough. Oh… and do you feel sorry for her yet? (:

NEXT TIME: So… what will the fate of Sara be? The loose ends are tied up and we prepare for the final curtain call.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

(Epiloge)

Author's Notes…

1: Super long chapter, this was going to be two chapters, but I thought it better to just condense it into one long epilogue, no reason to draw it out.

2: There's a scene out of this which, if not taken from the Manga, is certainly inspired by it. Those who spot it get a cookie!

Epilogue

It was no good, she wasn't responding.

Nicholas growled and threw down the spanner in frustration. He'd been working on the bike for hours, ever since Vash had returned from the hospital but it just wouldn't start. The fact that it had very little fuel in it was only half the problem, something else was wrong. He'd thought it had been clogged up with sand or dust but no matter how many times he cleaned her…

He sighed, deciding to try one more time.

He slipped into the saddle and turned on the ignition.

Chug-chug-chuga-chugauhhhhhhh….

The engine spluttered out of existence. Damn.

He slipped out of the saddle, casting a glance at his companion as he did so.

Vash was currently sitting with his back against one of the ruined buildings, his eyes staring blankly into the horizon, lost in his own thoughts.

Well, at least he wasn't causing any trouble.

Taking another look back towards his bike, Wolfwood came to a decision, there was only one thing he could do now…

He stepped a few paces back and then, with all his strength, he kicked it.

Angelina II shook from the blow and fell over onto her side. The noise startled Vash who shook himself out of his musings to watch the priest.

Grinning, Nicolas righted the bike again, saddled it and once more turned the ignition.

Chug-chug-chug-chugauhhhhhhh….

Double damn!

He unsaddled and backed up again, willing to give it another shot.

'What are you doing?' asked Vash.

'It's an old mechanic's trick,' explained Wolfwood patiently, 'it always works.'

'Kicking things makes them work better?' the gunman sounded more than a little sceptical.

'Sure does,' replied Wolfwood cheerily, before once more charging at the bike.

He brought his leg out to kick but skidded a little on the sand which skewed the angle of his blow. So, instead of hitting the bike with the underside of his foot, he hit it with the end.

The result of this was Angelina II once again on its side and there was a hell of lot of pain in Wolfwood's toes.

The priest hopped about in the sand, screaming out in agony and clutching his injured foot. To make things worse Vash was busting his guts out over it.

'Quit laughing,' snarled Wolfwood between his yelps of pain, 'I'd like to see you do better!'

Vash looked blank for a moment then, to Wolfwood's horror, he stood up and moved towards the bike.

He pulled it upright with ease and hunched down, studying its underbelly and other workings. After a few moments he brought his hands forward and began to fiddle with the wiring.

'Hay!' yelled Wolfwood, 'be careful! That's delicate machinery, if you break it then-'

Vash ignored him, he stood up once more, having finished whatever he was doing and turned the ignition key.

Chug-chug-chuga-chuga-chuga-CHUGA-VRUMMMMMMMMM!'

Vash sighed and dusted the sand off his knees, 'there,' he said, 'all better!'

He turned towards Wolfwood and grinned.

Wolfwood glared.

'What?' asked Vash helplessly, 'what did I do now?!'

Wolfwood opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by another voice.

'Um… Mr Vash? Mr Wolfwood?'

Both men turned to see a boy, not more than thirteen, watching them. They recognised him immediately. Before leaving to take care of the bike Wolfwood had paid the boy to bring any news of Sarah's condition to them.

The runner shifted nervously upon his feet under their stares.

'Yeah?' asked Wolfwood.

'Um… the doctor told me… um… it weren't any good, woman ain't gonna live. He says that you should come back to town right away, if you wanna say good bye to her…'

Wolfwood nodded grimly and turned to his friend, wanting to see how Vash was taking the news.

The outlaw's face was troubled, though not blank or mask-like as Nicholas had feared, instead it was just terribly, terribly sad. His cheeks shone wet with the tears trickling down his face.

'Do you want to go?' asked Wolfwood, still a little unsure as to Vash's emotions where Sarah was concerned.

'Yeah,' replied Vash, his voice soft and whispery.

'You sure?'

'I've been around a while,' said his friend, a small, sad smile tweaking his lips, 'I've seen a lot of death, one way and another. One thing I've learned, if there's anything worse than dying, it's dying alone. I… I wasn't there when Rem died, I left her to face death by herself, it's something I've always regretted. I won't let that happen with Sarah, I owe her that much at least.'

Wolfwood nodded, 'Ok then, but we'd better be off now, we don't have much time.'

When at last they were back at the hospital, the sun was falling towards the horizon and the shadows were lengthening.

The setting sun painted the white walls of the hospital crimson, an effect which hardly comforted either man as they walked through the doors.

The doctor was waiting for them, a grim look upon his wrinkled face.

'I'm sorry,' he said by way of apology, 'there was really nothing I could do…'

'Is she still alive?' asked Vash abruptly.

'Yes,' replied the doctor, 'though not for all that much longer.'

'Can we see her?'

'If you want, but be warned, we gave her a lot of drugs for the pain, she might not be very coherent.'

'Thank you,' said Vash sincerely, before making his way down the corridor, presumably to where Sarah was located. As much out of habit than anything else, Wolfwood followed.

He couldn't help but be shocked at how much the woman had changed.

She lay upon the bed, her pail skin now as white as freshly darned linen. Even her grey hair seemed to have faded further into white. The only colour on her was a large red stain upon her breast where the blood had leaked through her bandages once more.

Just the faintest of movements came from the weak rise and fall of her chest, her breathing was as light as a butterflies wing beats. She seemed like a paper doll, delicate and frail, ready to be crushed with the meekest of touches. Her eyes, half closed and unfocused, widened a little as they entered, she was aware of their presence at least.

Vash approached and sat down on the chair next to the bed.

Slowly, carefully, he took one of her delicate, frail hands into his own, holding it as lightly as he would an injured baby bird.

'Sarah?' he whispered to her.

Her eyes widened further, the pupils moved back and forth until they focussed upon the gunslinger.

Slowly a smile spread across her wasted features. It was… there was no other word for it… it was beautiful. Nicholas felt his heart stir at the very serenity of it as, for a moment, the old woman seemed revitalised, young again, a delicate, smiling paper angel nestled within the sheets.

When she spoke her voice was little more than a breath of sound, 'Is that you Christopher? Have you come back for me?'

Vash looked stunned, his blue-green widened and he turned a shade paler. Then he calmed again, coming to some private conclusion. He smiled, not a real smile, but a kind one, nevertheless.

'Yes, Sarah,' he replied gently, 'it's me, it's Christopher. I'm here for you, my love…'

With this Nicholas knew that he'd stayed long enough, that this was a conversation he should not be privy to. So he stepped out of the room and gently closed the door behind him.

He walked back down the corridor and through the doors, back outside. The bottom of the sun was touching the horizon now, it would soon be night. Sitting down on the hospital porch, he took a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and, after striking the match upon the sole of his left boot; he lit it and took a deep drag.

Nicholas D Wolfwood spent the next few minutes smoking whilst he watched the sun set and night come to the broken city of July.

The final few fingers of red light were just slipping from the night's sky when the ash reached the filter of his cigarette. He removed the used cigarette from his mouth and stubbed the dying embers out upon floor boards of the porch.

Just a few seconds later he heard the hospital doors open and close behind him. He sensed, as much as saw, Vash come and sit by him upon the porch.

'Is she dead?' asked Wolfwood.

'Yes.'

The two men watched the last rays of light leave the sky, neither saying a word. Soon the biting cold of the Gunsmoke night began to set in.

'So,' said Wolfwood at last, 'you did it again, you pretended.'

'It was for the best,' replied Vash confidently, and Nicholas didn't even try to argue otherwise.

Silence settled again, Wolfwood began to shiver. He wondered, briefly, why Vash wasn't shivering also; he was only wearing a shirt and dungarees after all.

'Wolfwood?' said Vash eventually, his soft voice breaking the still night air.

'Yeah?'

'Do you do funerals?'

They were up at dawn the next day. Vash started to dig the grave whilst Wolfwood went to buy fuel for Angelina, (they used Sarah's money, Vash confirming that it had been her desire they do so. There was, after all, no one else she could leave it to.)

The reason for the haste was twofold, for one neither of them wanted to stay in July any longer than necessary, as much because of the ruckus they caused in the bar as anything else. Another was that, in Gunsmoke's climate, it was best not to leave dead bodies around for long.

By the time he had returned and filled Angelina up, both grave and head piece were ready.

Wolfwood gave the customary service as Vash put her into the ground, covering her still form with sand and dirt until it was lost from view. Until it was just another grave in July's tragically large cemetery.

They buried her next to the place where Christopher was resting, his name recorded, carved upon the simple stone that marked his grave. It had taken them a long time to find him. The shallow carvings, the best that a younger Sarah could manage, had been half worn away by sand.

There had been no second name upon his marker.

Sarah had received a somewhat superior head stone, Vash being more skilled in these things, sadly enough.

When they were done Wolfwood took a step back and slipped his small, pocket bible and prayer book into his jacked again. Vash, straightened up, massaging the muscles on his back and reaching over, he hauled the marker over to the grave, placing it upon the freshly turned earth.

Then he moved back to stand besides Wolfwood, reaching into his dungarees he drew out something that made the priest gasp in shock.

'Geraniums!' he breathed, staring in awe at the bright red flowers Vash had produced, 'how in the name of all that's holy did you get those!'

Aside from some cacti and small desert weeds, flowers were extremely rare on Gunsmoke. It might be possible to obtain a few in some of the bigger cities, cities which had Geo-Plants, but even then they cost a small fortune.

Vash smiled and proffered the blooms for inspection.

Tentatively Nicholas took one of them, rubbing two fingers on one of the scarlet petals. He grinned in comprehension, 'cloth,' he said, 'and plastic. You've got plastic flowers for the grave?'

Vash returned the smile, though it was very sad, 'yeah,' he replied, 'does it matter?'

'I guess not, not really,' remarked the priest, handing back the fake flower.

Vash laid the bunch upon the turned earth; their vivid hue added an odd sense of life and vitality to the her resting place.

'So,' said Wolfwood at last, drawing out one of his cigarettes, 'tell me, why the name?'

'Excuse me?'

'The second name, the one you put on her grave stone,' Wolfwood nodded towards it,

'Why that name might I ask?'

'There's no way of knowing what her real second name was. She never got to marry Christopher and she was disowned by he parents. And even if she wasn't, she never gave me either of their second names, there's no way of finding out.'

'Yeah, so? That doesn't answer my question. We could have just left it blank, why did you choose that one? Is it yours?'

'Nope,' replied Vash, some real humour finally creeping into his voice, 'it was… someone else's.'

He allowed his hand, his real hand, to trace across the carved marks upon the tomb stone, the letters which spelled out its occupant's name.

"SARA SAVEREM."

'So why did you pick it?'

'I guess…' Vash paused and a tear dripped from his eye, 'I guess it was sort of a final thank you, you know? A sort of gift, a way of repaying what she did for me. It isn't much, but it's all I have…'

Nicholas nodded, puffing upon his cigarette, 'I still want to know whose it is.'

'You've become nosy recently,' muttered Vash, some irritation leaking into his voice, 'you didn't used to be like that.'

'Yeah, learned it from you,' Wolfwood sighed, 'it's really irritating, isn't it?'

Vash looked at him and scowled. Wolfwood grinned and blew smoke in his direction, causing the gunslinger to cough a little and wave his hand in front of his face.

'Those things will be the death of you, you know,' he said.

'God, I hope so,' replied the priest, entirely sincere.

The two men stood in silence by the grave for a little time after that, eventually Wolfwood sighed and stretched, 'we'd best be off. There isn't anything more we can do here.'

'I guess not,' agreed Vash, his eyes, watering once more, not moving away from the graves.

Wolfwood, understanding that Vash needed some more time to himself, moved away, making some final preparations to Angelina II.

When Vash came back, his eyes clear of tears and he looked a little more at peace with himself.

'Well,' asked Nicholas, 'are you ready to go?'

'Yep,' replied Vash, he turned round one last time, to look upon the wreckage of July.

'I'm sorry… good bye,' he whispered into the air, his voice so quiet that Wolfwood almost missed it.

'Come on, Needle Noggin,' Wolfwood grunted.

Hearing him, Vash moved back towards the bike and paused, 'um… Wolfwood… aren't you supposed to sit at the front?'

'Nope, not this time.'

'But then who's driving?'

'You are,' replied Wolfwood smugly, 'after you showed your skill with fixing bikes, I figured it was time you rode one. I'm sick of having to dive you everywhere. It's your turn!'

'But Wolfwood I'm really not all that good-'

'Shut it, Needle Noggin, you're driving or we ain't moving from this spot!'

'Fine,' huffed Vash, taking the front seat, 'but don't say I didn't warn you…'

He turned the key in the ignition and the bike thrummed into life beneath them, 'alright,' he muttered under his breath, 'let's get this thing going, now… gears… gears… if I was a gear where would I be? Ah, here!'

He pulled a likely looking stick and the bike shot forward. Wolfwood gripped onto his waist, holding on desperately as both wind and sand whipped across his face.

'This is all very good,' he yelled, 'but don't you think we're going a bit fast?'

'Yeah!' agreed Vash.

'So slow down!'

'Uh… how?'

'The breaks, idiot, use the brakes!'

'Oh… ok!'

'NO! NO! That's the accelerator!'

'Damn!'

'NO! Lean left! Lean left! We're gonna crash!'

'Your left or mine?'

'Any left! No! Not that way, not that waaaAAAAAUUUUGGHHHHH!'

'AIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!'

FIN

Well, that's it, The End. I hope you enjoyed this little fic, PLEASE, if you've been reading this, give me some feedback! It gives me many warm and fuzzies! And I'm especially interested in knowing if I pulled off the Wolfwood and Vash relationship well.

Also, if you liked this, try checking out my other words. Especially How Far is Eden? Which is supposed to be one of my best pieces.

Also, for those who have read said fic, you might be interested to know the sequel is finished. I'll be putting it up soonish.

Reader's Replies.

LeDiz: This was going to be two chapters, in fact, but I felt it would be better to make it one… end it here as it were. I'm sorry you don't feel sorry for her, but I can understand why. She made a REALLY big mistake, and she was VERY manipulative and a bit of a bitch but still… Heh, I enjoyed writing her, she was a bit of an anti-Mary-Sue. BTW, what was that idea that popped into your head? I'm curious?

Mangaqueen13: Thanks, I hope this ends on a good note for you!

Keiko Sonora: No problem, sorry your computer died. I hope you get to read this. Thanks so much for your support!

Ninja Chic: Vash is indeed hot. Glad someone feels sorry for Sarah (Glares at LeDiz) And yeah, it was kinda a misunderstanding. I hope you like the ending, review whenever you can, it'd all be good. Thanks so much for reading this, I really appreciate all my reviewers.

EVERYONE ELSE: Thanks for reading this fic and I hope it lived up to your expectations. If your finishing it now, PLEASE post a review. I'd really like to know what you thought.

Thank you, good bye, and Merry Christmas!


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